


Like a Boy in Love

by hongbab



Category: VIXX
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 18:14:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9778601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hongbab/pseuds/hongbab
Summary: When he’s already inside the safe haven that is his flat, Hongbin leans against the front door, taking his phone out of his pocket and opening the missed call. He saves Wonshik’s number as ‘Impending Death’.





	1. I

"Try not to look so tense," comes the instruction, and Hongbin shakes himself a little so his posture won't be as awkward as he—and apparently the photographer—feels it is. "Bend your right knee. That's right."

The colourful clothes make him feel uncomfortable; he's not exactly used to wearing all kinds of tracksuits combined with whatever patterned scarves that look like a washing machine vomited them on his body, but, well, starting from the bottom is not something he should be embarrassed about. And if the fashion blog he's modelling for gets famous enough, a well-known agency might discover him so he can wear even more uncomfortable ugly clothes _on the runway_. That's what he tells himself while taking up a ‘sexy’ pose, at least.

Apart from taking selfies in front of his mirror back home (practically the contents of his lame portfolio), he's never been taken pictures of in a modelling setting, so the things going on in front of him and behind the photographer guy are quite distracting for him.

"Hongbin," the photographer (whose name Hongbin didn't even memorise when they introduced themselves) sighs, and then peeks from behind his camera, pointing at it. "Look into the objective, please."

"Yes," Hongbin mutters, "I'm sorry."

Someone requests a coffee and another person yells that they would go get some, and then someone else asks for a pizza. Hongbin clenches his jaw, and tries not to concentrate on the other models, makeup masters, stylists and hairdressers, imitating that he's stretching before a run.

He can't help flinching when he hears the loud clatter, just like he can't help screaming when the enormous lamp falls into the set, knocking him over and cutting the side of his neck as it starts flickering and sparkling, one of the sparkles setting the white sheet on fire by his face, the small flame catching the end of his eyelashes and some strands of his hair.

"What the fuck?!" someone shouts as Hongbin jumps away from the fire, a stylist trampling on the sheet while Hongbin wipes at his eye and pats his own hair, the background music being his own cries.

"Holy shit, are you okay?!"

Several people are inquiring about his wellbeing but Hongbin couldn't care less; his eyeball was almost singed by the flame and it still feels too hot as he presses the heel of his palm on it, his eye becoming teary from the pressure.

"WONSHIK!"

Hongbin looks up with one eye, noticing a boy in similarly awful clothes as his, standing by the other end of the lamp, completely frozen. His face is white as a ghost's, small mouth agape and his eyes glinting like he's just about to cry. While some people are touching every inch they can reach on Hongbin's body, the photographer steps to the paralyzed guy, shaking him by his shoulders with such force the guy's head tips back and forth.

"Are you fucking crazy?!" the photographer bellows, but the boy is just staring at Hongbin above the photographer’s head. "You almost killed him! You're fired! Idiot!"

"I'm fine," Hongbin grumbles, tearing himself out of the touchy hands' grips.

"I want to get the price of this lamp by tomorrow, got it?" the photographer says to this Wonshik guy who nods slowly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his left hand.

"Hongbin, you're bleeding!" a fellow model girl whines. "You should go to the hospital, oh my God!"

Suddenly, Hongbin becomes aware of the warm liquid trickling down his neck, stopping at the collar of the T-shirt under his jumper. He presses his hand there, hurrying into the corner of the room where his own clothes are sitting on a chair, too furious to say anything. He peels off the tracksuit, handing it over to a stylist who moans about the blood on the T-shirt, but he stays silent as he changes into his own shirt, sweater, jeans and sneakers.

"Hongbin," the photographer says, stepping to him. "I— I don't know what to do, your cut seems bad and I lost my best lamp, so... I guess, you should contact a staff member once your cut somewhat healed, and we can negotiate a time for a session if I don't have enough good pictures, alright?"

"Yeah, okay," Hongbin nods.

"I'll let you know about the results in a few days," the photographer pats Hongbin's shoulder, and walks away to get his stuff, grumbling "get out of my sight" to a still idly standing Wonshik in his way.

Hongbin presses his hand back on his wound, walking out of the building and towards the bus stop.

"Hongbin! Wait!"

Hongbin turns around, seeing Wonshik jog after him. The guy stops in front of him, and Hongbin glances at the tear streaks on his cheeks.

"Can I take you to the hospital?" Wonshik asks, ruffling the long parts of his black hair on top of his head, looking highly nervous. "I'm parking right there."

"Don't get me wrong," Hongbin says, his voice shaking from the suppressed anger, "this is a nice offer, but I don't really want to be around you."

Wonshik makes a high-pitched noise, quite uncharacteristic of his otherwise deep tone.

"I'm so sorry," he all but whispers. "I'm so sorry, I tripped and—"

"I'm _fine_ ," Hongbin hisses as the saltiness of his skin gets into contact with the bare flesh under his fingers.

"You have to get it cleaned," Wonshik insists, his eyes full of tears again that he wipes off. "Please, let me take you to the hospital."

Hongbin huffs, but nods. A lift home would come in handy anyway, and if he gets to have the bleeding stopped in the meantime, that's just a bonus.

Wonshik's car is small and Hongbin has no idea how that skyscraper of a man can squeeze himself into it, but they get going nevertheless. Hongbin watches the scenery outside, deliberately avoiding Wonshik's eyes, even though he knows Wonshik looks at him more often than at the road. There's some horrible underground hiphop music coming from the speakers built into the doors, and if anything, that just makes Hongbin hate Wonshik even more.

The doctor is quite baffled when she finds out just why exactly Hongbin and Wonshik came to the emergency department, but she puts some disinfectant on Hongbin's cut (hurts like a bitch—another minus point for Wonshik), sticking some band aids on it while Wonshik rambles about the accident.

"Thank you," Hongbin says with his eyes cast down in embarrassment when the doctor is done treating him.

He attempts to get away from Wonshik at the exit, dismissing his former idea of getting himself taken home by Danger himself, but Wonshik tentatively puts a hand on his back and guides him to the car, asking where he lives.

"I'm so sorry, Hongbin, really," he says when they're already on their way to Hongbin's place. "Today was my first day; I didn't pay attention, and there were cables and _things_ on the floor, and I caught my foot in them and—"

"I honestly don't care," Hongbin cuts in and Wonshik falls silent, sniffling in an ungraceful manner. (Because otherwise Wonshik is the epitome of gracefulness, obviously.)

"Thanks," Hongbin says curtly once Wonshik stops in front of the complex.  
He gets out of the car without sparing Wonshik a look, the band aids stretching and loosening on his skin, tearing at the soft hairs on the side of his neck. He types in the code for the front door that crackles to indicate that it's open, but before he could go inside, Wonshik yells, "Wait, don't go!"

Hongbin lets out a frustrated sigh, looking back at Wonshik. "Why, do you want to attempt killing me for real?" He tries to sound sarcastic, but the question mostly carries an annoyed undertone to it.

"No, I just," Wonshik walks up the stairs to stand eye to eye with Hongbin, looking down at him for a second, and averting his eyes in the next moment. "Would you give me your number?"

Hongbin manages to stop himself from spluttering, only cocking an eyebrow at Wonshik. "As I said, I don't really want to be around you."

"I know," Wonshik replies, looking into Hongbin's eyes again. "I just want to compensate— ah." He takes a step forward, closing the distance between them and leaning so close their noses almost touch. Hongbin starts to panic, but can't move as Wonshik murmurs: "Your lashes."

Hongbin stays silent while Wonshik examines his eyelashes for a second too long, only realizing how close he is when Hongbin's shaky leg bumps with his.

"Oh my God, sorry!" Wonshik apologises, pulling back quickly, his face flushing to the roots of his hair. "I didn't know the flame got you this bad..."

"Don't—" Hongbin's voice breaks, so he starts over, "don't tell me it's that bad."

"Not _that_ bad," Wonshik says, although his tone contradicts his words as he blinks at Hongbin's other eye. "It's barely noticeable."

"Good," Hongbin breathes, not being able to come to terms with the small proximity Wonshik deemed agreeable to put between them just a minute ago.

"So, your number...?"

"How exactly do you want to compensate me?"

Wonshik looks around as if trying to find the answer on the ground, scratching the back of his head.

"Coffee?" he asks in the end, looking back up at Hongbin, his expression kind of sheepish. "Dinner?" When he sees Hongbin's eyebrows running up on his forehead, he corrects himself, "No, no, dinner would be too much. So... coffee?"

Hongbin sighs again. "Chai tea latte," he says.

"Really?" Wonshik asks incredulously, a smile spreading on his small lips, showing narrow white teeth that remind Hongbin of a small rodent’s.

Wonshik takes his phone out of his pocket, and reaches it out to Hongbin to type in his number. When he's done, Wonshik takes the phone from him and presses call at which Hongbin's own mobile starts playing Happy Together in his jeans' pocket, and, for some reason, he blushes.

"Park Hyoshin," Wonshik says, now grinning as he ends the call. "Do you like his music?"

"No, I use songs I hate as my ringtone," Hongbin scoffs, furrowing his brow when Wonshik, instead of getting offended, _chuckles_.

"I'll call you, then," Wonshik says, walking backwards, and Hongbin almost screams at him to watch out for the steps, but Wonshik stops right at the edge. "I'm really sorry."

"I'm _fine_ ," Hongbin replies, probably for the millionth time today.

Wonshik flashes a last bunny smile at him, and then skips down the steps.

When he's already inside the safe haven that is his flat, Hongbin leans against the front door, taking his phone out of his pocket and opening the missed call. He saves Wonshik's number as 'Impending Death'.


	2. II

Wonshik is wearing ripped black jeans and a horribly long black and red flannel shirt with white sneakers, a dark blue studded snapback, his eyes covered by a cheap copy of a pair of designer sunglasses. He grins widely when he spots Hongbin by one of the tables, and almost falls over the threshold. Hongbin lets out a sigh.

“Hey, sorry for being late, I burned the shirt I wanted to wear while ironing it,” Wonshik says as he takes the seat opposite Hongbin. “Have you ordered yet?”

“No,” Hongbin replies, and just then, a waitress steps to them.

“What can I bring you?” she asks kindly.

“A chai tea latte and a green tea latte, please,” Wonshik says.

The waitress nods and goes away.

“I didn’t think you’d remember,” Hongbin mumbles, fiddling with the menu.

“Do I look like I have a bad memory?” Wonshik chuckles, and Hongbin gives him a side-eye at it. Wonshik seems to be too nervous for wanting to compensate Hongbin, almost like he thinks this is a—

“The green tea latte?” the waitress asks, and Wonshik motions at himself. “And the chai tea latte.”

“Thank you,” they say at the same time, and Wonshik giggles again before taking a sip of his tea. Hongbin narrows his eyes.

“To answer your question,” Hongbin says, stirring his own beverage, “taking into consideration how… clumsy you seem, yes, I thought you had a bad memory.”

“Ah, that’s not it, not really,” Wonshik replies, covering half of his flushed face with the large cup. He starts coughing after a few gulps, and Hongbin almost topples over as he skips to him to pat his back. When Wonshik looks up at him, his eyes are teary and his face is near purple, but he mouths a ‘thank you’. Hongbin sits back on his chair, heart thumping wildly and his lips twisting in worry. “I’m sorry, I just…” Wonshik takes a deep breath; his voice is still raspy. “I swear I’m not usually like this, it’s just… you…” he laughs again, staring into his cup, and Hongbin really feels like moving to a different table at this point. “It’s pretty damn disturbing to have you around.”

“S-sorry?” Hongbin stutters, his eyes going wide. “Well, you were the one who wanted to have a coffee with me, and I didn’t—”

“That’s not what I meant!” Wonshik cuts in. “Shit… I meant that you make me feel self-conscious. Because, you know, you’re a model and all.”

“But you’re a model too, aren’t you?”

“Me?” Wonshik asks, baffled. “No, I’m not. What made you think I was a model?”

“Your clothes.”

“What about my clothes?”

Hongbin remembers the baggy grey sweatpants - baby pink button-up combo from the almost fatal photoshoot a few days ago, and it takes him some moments to realize that Wonshik might dress the way he does of his own accord and not because someone forces those clothes on him. He clears his throat.

“I mean, you’re tall and have nice proportions,” Hongbin says, and the words that leave his lips only reach his ears when it’s too late. He feels his cheeks heat up, so he blinks down at his tea instead.

“Thanks,” Wonshik mutters, and from the corner of his eye, Hongbin sees just how flustered he is. Good. Hongbin wouldn’t want to be the one who feels antsier. “But I was actually there because of the lighting. It’s— well, it _was_ a part-time job.”

“But if you can’t take the sight of models—”

“Not models, just— just you, you know?”

The silence that follows is thick and deep, and Hongbin is pretty sure his face is starting to look as red as Wonshik's.

Hongbin wants to check the time on his phone so desperately his fingers ache with it, but he’s polite enough not to do so until they run out of things to discuss (Hongbin's dream to become a runway model being one and Wonshik's studies of electrical engineering being the other one). When the silence stretches too long, Wonshik asks for the bill, and despite Hongbin's protests, starts tapping at his pockets.

“Just a second,” he says with his voice going up in pitch, “I think I left my wallet in my car.”

He jumps up and runs outside.

The waitress flashes Hongbin a tight smile before she asks, “He will come back, right?”

“I’m not sure about anything he does,” Hongbin murmurs, grinning similarly tensely at the waitress.

Wonshik does return, in one hand holding his snapback and running his other fingers through his hair, looking highly distressed. He hurries back to the table, and lets out a whiny sound.

“My car got stolen,” he says, looking intently at Hongbin.

“What?” Hongbin asks. “Are you sure you didn’t just leave it somewhere else?”

Wonshik collapses on top of the table, his hair standing on end in every direction as he hides his face in his arms. “I can’t find my keys either, I probably left them in the ignition,” he mutters.

Hongbin doesn’t even know what to say, only pinches the bridge of his nose, running his hand over his face a moment later. The waitress clears her throat above them and Hongbin finally realizes that he needs to pay, so he pulls out some bills and hands them over to the waitress who thanks him and walks away.

“Do you need some money to take the bus or anything?” Hongbin asks once they’re out in the street, the lamps illuminating the parking lot which is completely devoid of a small blue Hyundai.

Wonshik throws his head back, looking up at the pitch-black sky, the faint rays of the moonshine glinting in his sleepy eyes.

“I can’t go home, all of my keys were on the same ring,” he says, and by the way his throat tightens, Hongbin can tell he’s close to tears. It nudges at Hongbin's heart and makes him feel an urge to hug Wonshik, but he’s strong enough to hold it back. “I lost my phone and money and cards and everything.”

Hongbin chews on his lower lip while Wonshik pulls his jacket together a little more, sniffling as he stares up at the sky.

“Do you want to come over to mine?” Hongbin asks finally, his voice shaking with inexplicable nervousness. “It’s warm there and maybe you can calm down a little. And then we’ll report the thing.”

Wonshik blinks a few, but then he looks down at Hongbin. “Are you sure?” he mumbles with a sad smile. “I know you don’t like me.”

“That’s not true.”

Wonshik's eyes turn wide, but Hongbin looks away and starts walking towards the bus stop instead of waiting for a comment.


	3. III

Hongbin stumbles out of his bedroom still half-asleep, not even turning on the lights so he won’t go blind. He pads towards the kitchen, and the fact that the lamp’s on in it only registers when he finds a person clad in only a pair of boxer briefs standing in front of his kitchen counter. He lets out a strangled noise that makes Wonshik quickly turn around, his eyes flitting up and down from Hongbin's naked torso to his face like he’s trying not to stare but can’t.

(Unfortunately, the same can be told about Hongbin who shamefully swallows at the sight of Wonshik's _nice_ abs and the tattoo just under his left collarbone.)

How he managed to forget Wonshik had spent the night on his couch is beyond him, considering the fact that it took him an awfully long time to fall asleep what with Wonshik's bear snores rattling the walls.

“I thought I’d make coffee?” Wonshik says but it sounds more like a question as he holds up the glass carafe full of water.

“It’s okay, I’ll do it,” Hongbin replies, skipping to the counter and taking the carafe from Wonshik before he could drop it or do any other horrible thing with it. Surprisingly, this time Hongbin's usually shaky hands are trembling so hard it’s more likely that he will be the one who drops the carafe.

Wonshik stands next to him, watching his moves while Hongbin prepares the coffee. When the coffee machine is already whirring, the black liquid dropping into the carafe, Wonshik says, “Thanks for letting me stay over.”

“It’s okay,” Hongbin replies, his eyes betraying him and getting fixated on Wonshik's thighs before he turns his head away.

“I’m so sorry, Hongbin.”

“Sorry about what?” Hongbin asks, and takes two mugs from the cupboard, pouring the coffee into them, and handing one of them to Wonshik along with the sugar.

Wonshik puts some of it into his coffee, taking big gulps, even though the whole thing is scalding hot, and Hongbin prays to heavens he won’t have to take Wonshik to the hospital in the following few minutes. Wonshik, however only hisses at the hot drink before he says, “I was the one who asked you out and then wasn’t able to pay.”

Hongbin drops his mug back on the counter, some of the hot coffee splashing onto his stomach. He screams, and Wonshik jumps to him with a wet kitchen towel, pressing it on the burnt area, the icy cloth somewhat soothing the pain.

“God,” Hongbin groans, every inch of his skin littered with goosebumps. “Has someone hired you to kill me?”

“I’m so sorry, Hongbin, I—” Wonshik keeps the kitchen towel pressed to Hongbin's abdomen, bending down to be able to reach it. Hongbin can only see his bird’s nest for hair, but he’s sure Wonshik is flushed to the roots of that nest. He himself is blushing way too hard. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that, I just—”

Wonshik looks up, his eyes full of worry and his brow furrowed in the way it was when he apologised after nearly beheading Hongbin with the lamp on the photoshoot set. Hongbin's heart is hammering inside his chest like it did last night when he saw Wonshik almost cry, the feeling of never wanting to see Wonshik like that reaching its peak, making his hands shake harder than before. Wonshik takes the kitchen towel off his stomach, straightening up, his shiny eyes boring into Hongbin as he steps closer, leaning in to kiss him.

It’s strange, because as much as Hongbin wants to stay as far away from Wonshik as he can, he really doesn’t want to push him away, his lips tasting of coffee or not. He doesn’t even really care about his own possible morning breath, because even if Wonshik is an unbearable klutz, he kisses like there’s no tomorrow, his long fingers tickling Hongbin's middle as his arms wrap around him, pulling him closer. Hongbin doesn’t hesitate much before hugging Wonshik back, his trembling fingers tangling into those silly long locks on top of Wonshik's head, carding through them gently.

Wonshik pulls back when it all starts getting too fervent, both of them trying to catch their breath, but not releasing the other.

“You’re such a mess,” Hongbin shakes his head, watching the small wrinkles form in the corners of Wonshik's eyes when he smiles.

“That’s what you do to me,” he says, pressing a kiss to Hongbin's lips. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you since I stumbled over the lamp.”

“I’ve no idea why I let you stay here,” Hongbin replies. “There are so many things you could use against me.”

Wonshik laughs, making Hongbin's heart flutter in his chest like a caged bird. With the lack of fabric between them, Hongbin is fairly sure Wonshik can feel just how frantic his heart is—he can feel Wonshik's, too.

“I’m trying my hardest not to hurt you.”

“I don’t want to imagine what would happen if you weren’t.”

Wonshik nods in agreement, coaxing a smile from Hongbin before he kisses him again, his right hand sliding up on Hongbin's back to draw patterns on the back of his neck.

“Damn,” Wonshik breathes when they pull apart for the second time, his fingertips still playing on Hongbin's skin as he laughs softly. “You’re really amazing.”

“You barely know me,” Hongbin says, resting his forehead on Wonshik's shoulder. “I might be the worst person in your life.”

“There’s a chance, yeah,” Wonshik replies, keeping Hongbin so close Hongbin can feel the pulsating vein in Wonshik's stomach on his own skin, and it’s so weird, yet he really doesn’t want to get away from it. “But my gut feeling is that… well, I have a very good feeling about you.”

“Urgh,” Hongbin grumbles, making Wonshik giggle. “Let’s brush our teeth before you say something potentially fatal again.”

“All right,” Wonshik says, kissing the cut on the side of Hongbin's neck before letting go of him.


	4. IV

Only when he’s already wearing his gym shorts does it occur to Hongbin that maybe saying yes to Wonshik's offer to hit the gym together once wasn’t such a brilliant idea.

Wonshik's car was found within the following two days of its having been stolen, and the culprits, two underage boys, got away with the whole thing with just their parents punishing them after Wonshik told the cops he didn’t want to make it a court case.

“They took the money from your wallet,” Hongbin said then on the phone when Wonshik told him about the news. “They committed a _crime_.”

“I know,” Wonshik replied in a sleepy hoarse voice that tugged at Hongbin's heartstrings. “But they’re only sixteen, I wouldn’t want them to have a criminal record. They thought it was fun, thought they would look cool if they stole a car, but when their parents found out… you should’ve seen their faces, one of them actually cried when his dad told him he was disappointed. This is punishment enough.”

“Just why are you so nice to people?” Hongbin asked, and Wonshik laughed sweetly.

Now, as Hongbin watches Wonshik jogging on the treadmill, he himself perched on the butterfly, barely trying to press the handles together, he wonders why exactly he’s doing this whole thing. Sure enough, Wonshik is handsome and has quite a few charming characteristics, but he’s also disgustingly kind and a little bit naïve, not to mention how it’s impossible to be around him without wearing safety gear. But he kisses perfectly and tries to compensate what he messes up (though, out of three times, he only succeeded once).

And then there’s his well-toned back and biceps that are only slightly smaller than Hongbin's; the perfect curve of his butt cheeks and the sinews on his thighs and his long, muscular calves…

“Ah, fuck!”

Hongbin almost falls face first on the floor as he jumps up from his seat to run to Wonshik who lies by the treadmill with his eyes shut tight, black snapback lying next to him.

“How did you do that?!” a trainer asks, crouching down, but when he wants to touch Wonshik, Hongbin bats away his hands to cradle Wonshik's head.

“Are you okay?” he asks, scanning Wonshik's face for damage.

“I got— distracted a little,” he mumbles, slowly opening his eyes, looking at Hongbin with a small smile. “I’m fine.”

“Do you want me to take you to the hospital?” Hongbin inquires, a thumb involuntarily caressing Wonshik's cheek.

“Look at you trying to first kill and then compensate me this time,” Wonshik chuckles, the fingers of his right hand curling around Hongbin's wrist.

“What do you—” Hongbin falls silent when he notices that the trainer is still crouching beside them. He gives him a look, and the guy clears off. “What do you mean trying to kill you? I was literally three metres away from you, minding my own business.”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant,” Wonshik replies, closing his eyes again.

“What? Are you sure you don’t have a concussion? Maybe we should—”

“I looked back at you checking me out and got distracted,” Wonshik says, his hand sliding up and down on Hongbin's lower arm, gently caressing it.

“I wasn’t checking you out,” Hongbin grumbles, averting his eyes.

“Of course not.” Wonshik takes Hongbin's hands off his head, and stands up, pulling Hongbin up with himself. “Can we, please, eat something? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, after shower.”

“After shower,” Wonshik agrees, his grin getting contagious.


	5. V

“Wonshik, are you sure we’re ready for this?”

“Trust me, this isn’t my first time.”

“This is insane.”

“I said this isn’t my first time, Hongbin,” Wonshik sighs, holding up the knife, and Hongbin eyes it with terror rising inside his stomach. “I helped Taekwoon make this so many times.”

“Maybe we should ask him to make this thing for us,” Hongbin says, pouring the spaghetti into the boiling water.

“He wouldn’t be happy,” Wonshik replies, chopping the onion. “Once he actually said this kind of rosé pasta was like his own child. He doesn’t really like sharing the joy of cooking and eating it. It’s either he cooks it and gets to eat from it, or you won’t eat it at all.”

“I’m just worried,” Hongbin says, watching as the knife moves too close to Wonshik's fingers. “You’re a klutz.”

“And you’re cute for worrying about me,” Wonshik smiles, stopping to lean close to Hongbin and press a short kiss to his lips. “But I’ll be fine.”

Hongbin is rather inclined to think that this rosé pasta will turn pink from something else than the tomato sauce, but he accepts Wonshik's enthusiasm and sets to slicing the mushrooms.

For some miraculous reason, they manage to finish dinner without either of them getting burned or any of their limbs getting chopped off. Wonshik did leave the sauce in the pan a little longer than necessary, but it was still tasty and Wonshik seemed so happy about getting to cook and eat it with Hongbin it shifted Hongbin's view on the meal into a very positive direction.

“Too bad Taekwoon can’t know I found his recipe yummy,” Hongbin says, still sitting after Wonshik won the fight for doing the washing-up.

“We should come up with an excuse to visit him and Hakyeon, and ask him to cook it for us,” Wonshik replies, pulling the black hair tie off his wrist and pushing his hair back to make a tiny bun out of it on the back of his head before turning to face the sink. “Maybe it would be enough if we went over and asked him to cook it for us. He likes cooking too much.”

“I’m envious,” Hongbin says. “I’m glad if I can make instant ramyeon without messing it up.”

“How can you even mess up instant ramyeon?” Wonshik laughs.

“Too much water,” Hongbin shrugs. “Or too little. Too small bowl. The list is endless.”

“And I’m the klutz, huh?”

Hongbin laughs, standing up from the table and stepping behind Wonshik, carefully wrapping his arms around his waist. Wonshik stiffens for a second, and Hongbin's heart is doing all kinds of things again, but then Wonshik relaxes into the embrace, so Hongbin rests his chin on his back.

“I’m proud of you,” he mutters.

“For what?”

“For cooking, doing the washing-up _and_ still being alive,” Hongbin smirks, although Wonshik can’t see him. “And leaving me unharmed, too.”

Wonshik snorts inelegantly.

“Have you ever been told how offensive your sarcastic remarks are?”

“Once or twice.”

Wonshik wipes the suds off his hands with a kitchen towel, turning around in Hongbin's hold. There’s a lock of hair hanging in front of his face and it makes Hongbin suck in a deep breath.

“I’d feel hurt if I didn’t deserve them,” Wonshik says, and Hongbin nods, tasting the smile on Wonshik's lips when he kisses him.

Wonshik, although surviving dinner, manages to botch undressing half an hour of kissing later: he first can’t find his way out of his T-shirt, and then jumps around on one leg, trying to pull his tight trousers down. Hongbin watches all of this through his fingers on his face, sprawled on the bed in only his underwear. His cheeks are ablaze and he’s really damn hard, his chest heaving.

“Can I help?” he asks when Wonshik needs to sit down on the edge of the bed to take his trousers off.

“I’ll be— okay— just one more— second— finally!” He throws his trousers away, climbing over Hongbin. The lights are off in the bedroom, but Hongbin is sure if they were on, he could see Wonshik's tomato red face. “Sorry, Bin-ah, I’m—”

“You’ll apologise later,” Hongbin says. “Let’s try to make this less awkward than it already is, okay?”

“Okay,” Wonshik whispers, kissing him hard on the mouth.

It does get even more awkward.

Taking the hair tie out of Wonshik's hair just to _do_ something, Hongbin wonders how he could tell Wonshik that he’s not very good at giving a blowjob without offending him. It’s not that it hurts because Wonshik watches his teeth and doesn’t go too hard either—it’s quite the opposite. It doesn’t feel like anything much and it’s pretty clumsy, but Wonshik is trying so hard Hongbin doesn’t have the heart to tell him to stop.

Fortunately, Hongbin only has to endure a little more before Wonshik mouths over his chest, kissing his shoulder, his finger sliding up on the cut on Hongbin's neck.

“I’m so sorry, Bin-ah,” he says in a voice that makes Hongbin's throat tighten.

“Wonshik, _please_.”

“So— okay.”

Hongbin arches up from the bed with the loudest moan he’s ever produced when Wonshik is almost done preparing him, bunching the sheets into his fists underneath him. Wonshik kisses his stomach, caressing his thigh with his free hand, and Hongbin knows he’s watching his face, concentrating hard, but he doesn’t dare looking up and seeing Wonshik's toned muscles in fear of coming from just the sight itself.

Wonshik pulls his fingers out, tearing open a condom with his teeth and fumbling with it. It gets so embarrassing with Wonshik's ‘I’m almost done’s that Hongbin bursts out laughing.

“Are you laughing at me now?” Wonshik asks with the pout audible in his voice.

“Of course I’m laughing at you, what even is so difficult about putting it on?”

“Everything, okay,” Wonshik replies, grumbling just a little. “My hands are shaking and I’m about to make love to _you_ ; it’s very difficult, you know.”

It takes him half a minute more to get it on which Hongbin spends giggling to himself. However, when Wonshik, at last, slips into him, the smile melts off his face. Wonshik kisses him through the pain, caressing his forehead and sweeping his fringe out of his eyes, smoothing out the wrinkles between his eyebrows and pecking his cheek. When Wonshik first pulls back, he accidentally slips out all the way, barely finding the way back, but Hongbin can’t laugh anymore, it’s all too good even if it’s clumsy, even if it’s awkward, because Wonshik's exhales end in small moans when he gets the permission to start building a rhythm. Hongbin keeps his mouth close to Wonshik's neck, kissing it when he can and panting down on it when he can’t reach it, pressing his lips to Wonshik's tattoo under his collarbone just because he can. He tastes the salty sweat on Wonshik's shoulder, bites down on the skin boldly, making Wonshik shudder and cry out, running his fingers over the line of Wonshik's spine, over the muscles on his back.

Hongbin is the first to come.

He doesn’t understand _how_ —he was always second when he was bottoming in all of his sexual intercourses before, no matter the strokes or insanely good moves. He comes a little bit too soon now, and he would feel embarrassed if he cared at all, but Wonshik jerks him through the orgasm, sucking on the uninjured side of his neck, getting louder with each thrust. Hongbin holds his waist tighter with his thighs, scrapes the skin of his back gently with his nails, and Wonshik trembles, a broken groan leaving his throat as the hotness fills Hongbin for a few seconds before Wonshik pulls out.

Hongbin's hips are sore, his joints screaming in relief when he takes his legs off Wonshik's torso. Wonshik wraps the condom into a tissue, throwing it into the paper bin under Hongbin's desk before he climbs back into the bed and under the duvet Hongbin holds up for him. Wonshik doesn’t lie down immediately; he sits there, from what Hongbin can see in the light coming in through the curtains, staring down at Hongbin. Wonshik chuckles.

“What?” Hongbin asks, the corners of his own lips curling up.

“That was the lamest I’d ever been in my whole life,” Wonshik replies.

“Yeah, it was quite lame,” Hongbin agrees. “So next time, please wear something less tight-fitting and practise putting the condom on beforehand, will you?”

“Next time?” Wonshik asks, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, if you want,” Hongbin says quietly.

“That’s not even a question,” Wonshik smirks. “But what if I won’t have time for practising?”

“If this is your way of not-so-subtly suggesting a second round, then you will have to bear with me laughing at you if you fuck up again.”

Wonshik bends over, pecking the corner of Hongbin's mouth. “I love hearing you laugh,” he says, kissing Hongbin and finally lying down, urging Hongbin to straddle his hips. He traces down the cut on Hongbin's neck again, his face twisting. “I’m glad this is how the whole thing turned out, but I wish I hadn’t hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“Every other of your moves is a threat to humanity,” Hongbin replies, taking Wonshik's hand off his neck and lacing his fingers with his on the bed instead. “Your mouth will get dry if you keep apologising.”

Besides, Hongbin thinks in the middle of the second round while Wonshik presses wet kisses to his chest, if it weren’t for Wonshik almost killing him, he wouldn’t even have spared a look at him. And, who knows, he might have passed up the opportunity of finding his better half.

But Wonshik doesn’t need to know that just yet.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to talk to me about any of my stories or just vixx in general on [tumblr](http://hongbab.tumblr.com/), [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/hongbab) or [aff](http://www.asianfanfics.com/profile/view/1061753) ♡ please support me on [ko-fi.com](https://ko-fi.com/hongbab) if you can ♡


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